


Never Letting Go Of You

by innerglow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Trials, Wincest - Freeform, broment, the bunker, the sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerglow/pseuds/innerglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean make it back to the bunker after The Sacrifice (8x23) and Dean takes care of Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Letting Go Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

They get back to the bunker and Sam’s still weak from the trials. He’s also dirty and he needs to shower. “I can’t…" Sam whispers, sensing Dean’s inner thoughts. “I know, Sammy— I know." Dean assures, letting Sam lean on him as they make their way to the bathroom. “I’ve gotcha." He tells Sam as they enter the bathroom and he pivots Sam to sit on the toilet seat.

Sam stares up at him, his eyes pale and lifeless. Dean wants to cry at the sight of Sam this way, but he swallows it down and offers his brother a calm smile instead. Dean goes to work unbuttoning Sam’s flannel. When he’s reached the last button he pushes it back off Sam’s shoulders and it falls effortlessly off of Sam’s frail body. 

Dean looks at Sam, the sight of his Brother’s sunken body so much more obvious without the cloak of his clothes. He hadn’t seen Sam like this in months, because Sam refused to be completely naked in front of him. He thought it was just because of the trials and how tired Sam had been. He had let it go so simply, but now the truth of it was staring at him so bluntly and it took his breath away.

"Sammy…" Dean whispers, as he touches Sam’s chest and feels the ridges of his ribs protruding through his skin. Sam turns his head and closes his eyes, shame filling his cheeks in the color of red. He didn’t want Dean to worry; he had so many other things to worry about lately. He didn’t want him to worry about this too. 

"It’s fine." Sam says sharply wanting nothing more than to put his shirt back on and retreat to the bedroom. But he knows he can’t. He’s too weak and Dean wouldn’t allow it. 

Dean stares down at his brother with a look of horror, “Sammy— this is not fine." Dean swallows down the tears that threaten to betray him once more and wraps his hands around Sam’s face. He nudges Sam’s face towards his and whispers, “Look at me, Sam." And Sam does, too tired to put up a fight. “I love you, more than anything—do you hear me?" 

Sam closes his eyes again and his lashes seal shut with the moisture that escapes.  He doesn’t say anything back to Dean; he can’t possibly vocalize how much he loves his Brother, too. He nods and it’s the only thing he can give his Brother in this moment; he wishes he could give so much more, his body just won’t allow it. 

"We’re gonna fix you up. I promise." Dean mumbles as he rakes a hand through Sam’s hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You’re gonna get better; you’ve got to get better." He whispers as he wraps his arms around Sam and pulls him in for a hug. Sam doesn’t hug back, he just leans against his Brother—his arms too heavy to lift. 

They stay like this, Dean hugging Sam and Sam just resting in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. It’d been such a long day, for the both of them. They almost lost each other; Sam almost gave up the one thing Dean had traded his own soul for. And what would be the point, then? If they can’t count on each other, than who? But that ends tonight, Dean thinks to himself. No more carrying this suitcase of guilt and anger around. They both chose to let it go—if for nothing else, for each other. That’s what matters most. 

Dean get’s the water hot, just like Sam always likes it and removes the rest of his Brother’s clothing as the tub fills. And when it’s full, he helps Sam carefully submerge himself in the water. “Feels good." Sam manages and Dean can’t help but smile at him with everything he’s got. 

Dean bathes Sam methodically, washing him carefully—trying to remove the guilt [which he feels responsible for] Sam has been carrying for years with the washcloth. They don’t speak. Sam just closes his eyes, his body too tired to do anything else. And Dean soaps, rinses and repeats. 

He takes his time with Sam’s hair, using the tea tree shampoo that Sam prefers. It’s cooling to his fingers and he knows it must feel the same on Sam’s scalp. He massages Sam’s scalp, making sure no spot is left untouched. Sam leans into Dean’s fingers, the sensation pleasing to his worn down body. Parts of him wish he could stay like this forever, but he knows that he can’t. 

Dean rinses the shampoo very gently from Sam’s head, making sure no spuds get into his eyes. And when he’s satisfied he grabs Sam’s hand and squeezes tightly, “Ready to get out?" Sam looks at Dean and winces because he knows he’s more useless now than he was to begin with, his muscles relaxed and soothed. “It’s ok, Sammy— I’ve gotcha, ok?" Dean reassures again, not wanting Sam to worry about it. “I’ve been carrying you my entire life." He adds as he bends over his Brother, hooking his hands beneath his armpits. “I ain’t gonna stop now." He says as he smiles. 

"On the count of three, ok?" Dean instructs Sam and Sam nods in agreement. Dean counts down and then hoists him so very effortlessly into an upright position. And then just as easy he’s got him out of the tub and is patting him dry with a towel.

Sam watches his Brother and just loves him so much in that moment. And before he can even try to stop it, a sob escapes his lips. Because he’s so fucking sorry that he’s ever questioned Dean’s priorities; so sorry he thought that Dean hated him all these years. And his sob surprises Dean, because he stands suddenly and is questioning, “What is wrong, sammy?"

"I’m sorry…" Sam lets out between a hiccuped cry and god he’s so fucking tired, it pains him to be crying right now—but he can’t help it. Dean looks at him absurdly and places his hands on his shoulders and squeezes, “Sammy, stop." Dean moves one of his hands to cup Sam’s cheek, running his thumb over the tears—trying to erase them completely.

"Remember what I said?" Dean says leaning in to Sam until their lips are inches apart. Sam closes his eyes and feels the warmth of Dean’s breath on his skin and it ignites a fire in his gut. It’s been so long since they’ve had each other completely. He’s been starving and he’s starved Dean just the same. 

Dean waits for Sam to say something, but he never says a word. “Let it go." He says quietly, but with every fiber of his being meaning it so entirely. And as if on cue, Sam sags into Dean’s arms. He nestles his face into the warmth of Dean’s neck and presses a single kiss there. “That’s right, let it go—Sammy—just let it go." Dean says again as he claws his fingers through Sam’s wet hair, pulling his Brother closer against him. 

_________

They lie in bed, Dean wrapped tightly around Sam— their limbs completely entangled. Where one begins and the other ended, neither one could tell you and that’s just how they prefer it.

Dean places a few dozen gentle kisses on the back of Sam’s neck, soothing him into a peaceful slumber. And just before Sam drifts off completely, Dean pulls Sam tightly against him and whispers, “The only thing I’m not letting go of, is  _you—_ Sammy."


End file.
